


Rank 47

by Lady_Katana4544



Category: Claymore
Genre: Gen, Introspection, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Katana4544/pseuds/Lady_Katana4544
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the prompt at fic_promptly -> Claymore, Clare, 47</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rank 47

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt at fic_promptly -> Claymore, Clare, 47

Rank 47.

The weakest of the weak.

She’s seen the looks that the others have given her when they think she isn’t watching. Heard the loud whispers of the men who always wear black who speak behind her back when they think that she isn’t listening.

Looks of pity.

Looks of disdain.

Whispers of an experiment that didn’t take. Whispers that they had failed to create a powerful warrior from the blood and flesh of the one named Teresa with the Faint Smile in a willing servant. Whispers that her own power should have matched or surpassed what had once been Teresa’s powers.

She has to listen the whisperers carefully. Watch the ones who watch her closely.

Always watching and listening for the signs of deceit. 

Watching for someone who might be given the order to take out the weakest warrior for the men who always wear black to run their experiment to figure out what went wrong in putting Teresa inside her body. 

She’s had to quickly learn that no one is every really a friend to you within the Organization, no matter who they are.

Elena was the only one to not look at her that way before her death and was actually someone who she could perhaps say had been her only friend before Miria, Deneve, Helen had slowly warmed up to her.

 

In the years that follow she sees the same looks echoed with the mud haired warrior that shares her former rank. Except strangely enough for the younger single digit that travels with her and stays close. No doubt the whispers were the same yet slightly different for her. How she survived the implantation process at all is a mystery that she does not believe anyone has an answer for.

She does not know this strange mud haired sister that shares her former rank, but she thinks that perhaps it would be best to watch her back.

Perhaps it is what Teresa would have wanted her to do.


End file.
